1The only evidence that Stella had a child were her widened hips. No weary lines creased her suntanned forehead nor had purple bags formed under her amber eyes from weariness. Her son had been taken from her the day he was born by a nurse that couldn't have her own children. Stella had been told her baby boy had died from a heart malfunction and she had never recovered from the loss of the life she had carried for 9 months in her womb.
Evidently Stella's son hadn't been the only who was taken from the St. Joseph's Maternity Ward over the years. The nurse had taken three children in all, the oldest now 13. The nurse, Matilda Franco had died of cancer just last month and had told the oldest of her past and who each of her sibling's real parents were.
Stella had been contacted last week that her son was alive and well. She had been driving all week to get to Maryland from her Seattle home and now that she was close she felt more alive than she had since she had been told her son had died.
Down the curved road was the large Tudor style house her 4 year old son lived in. Even from the distance the black gloss shutters stood open and the stark red door of the house stood out plainly against the whitewashed walls.
Her blue muddied truck pulled into the curved driveway and pulled up to the porch with white wicker furniture.
Stella turned the key and sat back in her seat to listen to the six- cylinder engine stop and cool under the Baltimore sun.
She adjusted her light pink shirt already dotted with small nervous stains under the arms. Stella smiled and opened the car door, neglecting to lock it behind her as she treaded up the white steps up to the outrageously crimson door. Her shaky hand reached up and knocked heavily three times.
A little boy that looked older than his four years swung open the heavy door. His eyes centered on her taking in her attire and soft hazel eyes hidden behind naturally blonde bangs, so contrasting to her sunny complexion. The mother sat down on her haunches to look at the boy at his own blue eyed level. She noticed his hair was the same blonde as hers.
"Are you.." He questioned, unsure of what to call his biological mother.
"Yes, Tyler, I am." She said slowly, wanting desperately to take him into her arms and cry over the years they lost. She saw the immediate acceptance in his eyes, hurt and confusing hidden by sooty lashes.
A young adolescent girl pulled the door open the rest of the way and offered her hand.
Stella stood up and shook it, smiling.
"You must be Jolie." Stella stated.
"Yep, and you must be Tyler's mom. We just had lunch but if you're hungry you're welcome to anything, "she replied tiredly, taking Tyler's hand to pull him aside gently, making room for Stella to enter the small hallway.
Stella couldn't keep her eyes off her son.
"Tyler, will you show me to the kitchen please?" she asked sweetly.
"Sure!" he replied happily, tugging at her shirt for her to follow him. Jolie couldn't help but laugh at Tyler's enthusiasm towards his real mother as she followed them to the kitchen that still smelled slightly of macaroni and cheese.
Stella moved to get a glass of water but Tyler jumped at the chance.
"I'll get it!" he said, rushing to fill a Dixie cup full of cold, crisp water,
He skipped back to Stella, spilling some on himself but he seemed not to notice as he handed the paper cup to his mother he had never met.
"Here...mom." he said bashfully.
Tears brimmed Stella's eyes and that's when Jolie smiled.
Tyler would be just fine.
A/N: heyy all this is just another short not really like my other stories I sorta did it from a weird pov but I hope yall like it anyway..thanks a bunch and please review
Hugz and cupcakes wendy